


(Un)Wanted

by rchcc122



Category: One Piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5209853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rchcc122/pseuds/rchcc122
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ace wasn’t the only kid left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Un)Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to get this written cause it was stuck in my head. I might elaborate on it further in the future if there’s outside interest, but for now I just wanted to get it written haha.
> 
> The whole thing took like just an hour to write, so I’m sorry for any errors.

It had been justice. That much he was completely, unequivocally sure of. The man had known full well what the life of a pirate led to, the consequences that faced him when he made his decision to hand himself over. The Marines were merely acting on what was right for the situation, execution for the Pirate King. What happened after… he was still a little shaky on. Members of the crew were wanted. Rayleigh, for one. That wasn’t unusual.

What rubbed Garp wrong was that age seemed to be a non-issue in this witch hunt for those associated with his old enemy. Two of those on his crew… they had been on the crew for years, but how old were they? They had been young. Very young. Too young to be on a ship like that by full, understanding choice.

They were wanted as well. He and Sengoku had heard about it from the higher-ups that they would not be spared. Capture for the young red-haired boy, and the young blue-haired boy would result in execution.

But his conviction that such a punishment was far too cruel was only enforced as he looked up from his papers in his office after hearing a small knock on the door. He had given a casual, “What is it?” and the door had slowly swung open.

Standing there, one striped-sleeve covered arm across his body gripping his other as his gaze remained downturned was a young man. His eyes covered by the brim of a straw hat with a red band.

“I-I wanna turn myself in,” the boy’s voice was small, shaking. Threatening to break, “I’m really tired.”

“Shanks — come here, sit down.” The command was firm and was obeyed without a second thought. Garp swore he heard a sniffle as the kid sat. He put the papers down, looking over the boy once more. There were fresh bruises he saw over the exposed parts of his upper chest and shoulders, some stains on his shirt he recognized to be blood, “look at me, boy.”

Again, the order was obeyed. But Garp almost wished it hadn’t been. The fifteen-year-old’s eye was swollen, black and blue. There was a cut on his lip, scratches on his forehead. What bothered him most, however, were his eyes. They were already dead. Dull except for a redness and a moisture that were left from how many tears shed.

“You got your ass whooped, didn’t you, kid?”

Though it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say in the situation, he was still surprised by the reaction. There wasn’t the anger, the fire the boy had held before. No insults. No laughter even. Just a silent, quiet nod as his gaze returned back to his knees. His shoulders shook. Were those new tears falling?

“Why are you here? You should be going to Rayleigh, or any of those other men who were on Roger’s crew. They’d help you better than me,” the silence that followed told Garp what he needed to know, but didn’t want to know. And his unsteady voice confirmed.

“They… don’t want me.”

It was most likely more complicated than that, Garp figured. Though he were a pirate, Rayleigh seemed to have a decent head on him. Well, as decent as pirates could have. But a pirate was a pirate regardless — they were selfish, and as soon as something doesn’t benefit them they toss it to the side.

Unfortunately here, that seemed to be this kid. His next question was risky, he understood, but if he knew a proper answer perhaps he could use it to his advantage, “What about your parents? Your family? Any relatives?”

If possible, the boy’s shoulders got heavier, his seat smaller. He was controlling his breathing. A small realization came over Garp, this wasn’t the reaction of a kid who had lost his family years ago. The reality Garp was starting to suspect was too cruel for a kid.

“Did you already go to them?” and the nod was small.

This was something Garp hated.

“And you got your ass whooped.” It wasn’t a question. The nod was smaller.

“I’m a pirate,” His words were soft, barely audible, “a risk.”

“But do you really want to be killed?” The question was blunt, but Shanks probably knew that turning himself in like this was akin to suicide. But the response he got was a shake of his head.

“No sir,” he whispered. And Garp caught on. He went to Garp on purpose. This wasn’t an accident or a coincidence. He needed help, and for whatever reason Garp came to mind. Perhaps it was the relationship he and Roger had had? Perhaps it was something else? But regardless, his passed opponent seemed to have left something other than an unborn child in his lap.

A broken teenager willing to take a gamble on his life by marching straight into a Marine base and asking for help.

 _Dammit Roger,_ he sighed. There really was only one thing to do in a situation like this, “Come on kid, let’s get you cleaned up. We’re gonna have to keep this a secret – for your ass as well as mine. I got a place to put you right here, this island gets unbearably cold at night, so those clothes aren’t gonna cut it. I’ll get you a jacket. Then we can talk about getting you on your feet. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in the Marines much at all? You’re good in a fight.”

As he spoke he saw the boy’s posture change. He sat straighter, he was listening. Completely shocked that this was coming out of Garp’s mouth. And to be honest, especially that last part, Garp was surprised himself. But it could be done if he was good with his words. That didn’t seem to be a worry though as Shanks shook his head, offering a genuine smile.

“I think I’ve been in enough fights, sir,” the answer certainly was unexpected, but Garp began to understand the sort of kid he was talking to. A good kid who life screwed over.

“Understood. Now come on, I don’t like that scratch on your forehead. You didn’t clean it did you?”

“No, sir.”

“Dumbass kid,” and then he got it. The small laugh that he had heard before accompanying that smile. Just being a source of hope for the teenage boy made a world of difference already; _You’re gonna be alright, kid. I’ll make sure of that._

* * *

“He sounds like he’s quite the bitter son of a bitch,” Garp lifted the spoonful of ice cream to his lips. The first order of business had been dressing his wounds and getting Shanks a decent jacket. The second order of business, as Garp realized, would be to get some food into the small body. Shanks had lost a lot of weight, his body far too thin for that belonging to a young man. Sure, the island was a pretty cold one – but it was never too cold for ice cream.

“He’s just so cranky. We’re always running into each other though, it’s weird. His hair’s pretty though, just like a broad’s,” Shanks licked the side of the scoops on his cone.

“Some call that fate. And don’t call women ‘broads’.”

“Aye, sir. Nah, not the way this is. We just have the same paths in mind. He acts really smart though, he has a fancy book with him a lot.”

“Not a reader?”

“Can’t,” Shanks answered with such nonchalance that Garp had to pause consuming his ice cream.

“'Can’t?'”

“Can’t really write either. Not that there’d be much point. If I can’t really read why would I wanna write what I can’t read?”

“How… how have you never learned?” Garp’s eyes were wide, unbelieving.

“We were just sailing and fighting and drinkin’ a lot. No one ever showed me,” he shrugged. It didn’t bother him. Not really. Not too much, anyway.

“That’s completely unacceptable. Starting after our ice cream, you are going to become literate,” Garp said so firmly, unwavering in his stance that it was Shanks’ turn to freeze.

“Are you serious?” It was disbelief. Hopeful disbelief. The excitement he held in the sentence at given this opportunity only fueled Garp’s resolve.

“Yes. I will teach you. I expect you to take full advantage.”

“Aye, sir!”

* * *

It was near the month marker. One month since Shanks had dropped himself on Garp’s doorstep, hoping for help and prepared for death. What he had gotten was more than he could have ever dreamed.

Garp had treated him kindly, respectfully, and as though he were a son. When he had come in, he was underweight, bruised, beaten, his heart heavy. Since then he had healed, learned how to read and write (not completely, but it was a firm start), and he had become able to hold his head a little higher too. Sure, his parents hadn’t wanted him. Those on the crew hadn’t wanted him. Maybe Garp… maybe Garp would be okay with him? He had been trying to be helpful around the base, doing what he could- cleaning, organizing, anything asked. If he was more useful, instead of just taking his kindness, maybe Garp would see that he was worth keeping around. He could prove himself.

And the date was coming up — the one-month marker. He wanted to give him something to thank him for everything. But the problem was simple: he had nothing to give. Well, he could kinda draw. And he did have that notebook Garp gave him to practice writing with. There were blank pages in that.

That’s why he was now standing outside of Garp’s office, a piece of paper in his hand as he waited for Garp to finish speaking with another officer. Bored of standing, the boy sat down, his ear getting closer to the gap. Then he started to hear the voices.

“How much longer is it going to be, dammit?”

“Don’t ask me, Garp, you’re the one who took this burden.”

His heart stopped. Wait. What?

“That’s the problem, Sengoku. There’s nobody else. Trust me, I’ve searched… Nobody wants to have to deal with this kid. Even after Roger’s died he’s giving me headaches. It’s a curse I tell you. Selfish sons of bitches, pirates are.”

“Well, at least you’re not dramatic.”

His chest grew tight, the paper falling as both of his hands went straight to his eyes to wipe away the hot tears. The Marine jacket Garp had given him to keep warm on this cold island weighing so heavy on his shoulders. It wasn’t given to him because of concern, but just obligation. Duty.

Even now. Even now he was a pain. ‘Maybe Garp would be okay with him’ – it was just foolish to think that way. No one wanted him. He knew that before, and now it was just confirmed. He was just baggage. Baggage that was selfishly throwing himself on whatever he could find.

On shaky legs he managed to stand, positioning himself against the wall as he tried to keep balance. The tears weren’t stopping but he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t be a headache, a curse any longer.

So with heavy legs he moved down the hall, to the room he had been lent for the last time. 

* * *

“I’ll keep you updated on the situation with Roger’s child, Sengoku, the baby should be born any time. This woman is determined to keep this between us,” Garp said with a sigh as he stood up, “can you believe he did this to me? Knowing I wouldn’t say no! Pirates are so selfish.”

“I’m just more confused as to why you agreed Garp. A child along with this job is impossible to balance, even when the child is your own,” the older man shook his head, “Besides, I heard you have another stray you were taking in?”

“Yeah,” Garp nodded, “Actually, since you already know about the baby – this is another of Roger’s,” there was a raised eyebrow, “No, not actual kid – but do you remember the red-haired boy on the ship? Shanks?”

“He’s your stray, Garp?”

“I’ve never seen a kid that broken before,” he sighed, “But he’s gotten a lot better. And he’s actually very helpful; he’s a good kid, Sengoku. I don’t know how he got on Roger’s crew in the first place, but aside from some manners and a drinking habit, he’s got a lot to offer. I don’t think he quite realizes it yet, though. The past year and a half have been trying.”

Sengoku had opened the door to the office and took a step out, but both Marines were surprised with the sound of crunched paper, “What the?” Sengoku picked it up, “Looks like a picture, Garp, says ‘Thank you for everything’ on it. Oh, it’s signed-”

“-‘Shanks’,” Garp looked over the piece of art. A portrait of Garp himself. “But why is it here? Was Shanks here?”

Then his ears started to burn with the cold realization of what could have happened.

“Garp?”

“Shit, that kid, he’s a great kid but he’s about as sharp as a pillow. I gotta go,” without giving Sengoku a chance to respond, he was off. Racing to find Shanks.

The boy’s room was empty except for the bed sheets neatly folded with the Marine jacket he was given placed respectfully on the small pile. The notebook he had been practicing writing in was open to a page, the pen resting right by it on the desk. The boy and his hat were nowhere to be seen.

 

_Dear Vice Admeral Garp,_

_Thank you for everything. please forgive me for being a burdin. i really apresiate everything you’ve done for me._

_i pray for youre hapines,_

_Shanks_

           

The paper itself was crinkled from dried tears that smudged some of the pen’s ink. Concern started to flood over Garp’s face.

“It’s supposed to be record cold tonight, it should rain too,” Sengoku’s voice cut through, not helping the concern.

“I have to find him,” he started to head out the door, “If he’s out there in what he came here with, he’s going to freeze to death.”

“Garp.”

“What? I don’t have time for this!”

“Perhaps it’s best… if you just leave him? Good kid or not, he’s still a wanted pirate. Keeping him around might raise suspicion towards Roger’s child, it could put your career in jeopardy, and may create more problems than it solves.”

“So you’re saying I should just let a fifteen-year-old kid die of hypothermia?”

“I’m saying that you need to pick your battles carefully from now on, Garp. Ask yourself — is all this trouble worth it?”

And he did. _Is it worth it?_ But then Shanks’ face came to mind. When he first arrived, eyes looking so tired. His happiness while eating ice cream, how hard he worked to learn how to read and write, how much effort he put into every one of Garp’s requests. He tried so hard, worked so hard… and for what? Just to feel like he belonged somewhere?

 _Is it worth it? Is_ he _worth it?_

“Yes.”

* * *

Shanks was huddled in the corner of an alley he had found, trying desperately to block out the cold. But it wasn’t a windy cold, no, the entire atmosphere was cold. The clouds over head were dropping small raindrops that were dampening his striped shirt, chilling him to the bone. His arms were curled around his body, holding himself tight as he shivered. He probably should have just kept the jacket: it didn’t fit the older guy anyway. But he wasn’t going to go back. He wasn’t going to bother them again.

The weather was unrelenting. Nothing he could do would warm him up, the light rain making building a fire impossible. The tears on his face felt like they were freezing over, but they wouldn’t stop falling.

Was this it? Was he going to die here? He didn’t want to die, but it seemed like he had run out of luck.

Maybe if he could just… let himself get to sleep. Maybe he’d wake up in the morning, maybe he wouldn’t, regardless it wasn’t like anyone would miss him. And that thought brought more tears to his eyes, everything was just so _exhausting._

Finally, his body began to give out. His exhaustion taking over and he actually wasn’t that cold anymore. In fact, he was almost a little bit… warm. Comfortable. Eyes beginning to close, the boy started to drift away.

Then a shoe hit the side of his butt, “You still alive, Red?”

Shanks’ was brought out of his stupor with the action, staring up at his assailer.

The boy a few years older than himself with his dark black hair in a low ponytail, rifle strapped to his back, was staring down at him.

“Get off your ass, I’ve got a place near here, come on,” when Shanks didn’t move, the hand went down to his shoulder — yanking him up, “I said come on.”

“No, it’s fine, just let me stay here! I don’t want to be a burden anymore!”

“It’s not fine, you’ll die and I’ll have to live with the idea that some dumbass died and I could have stopped it. So you’re going to be a burden either way. If you come with me, you can at least somewhat make up for it.”

The words were confusing, though he didn’t protest being pulled away any longer — stumbling to his feet. Once he was standing, the other man started to walk away.

“Benn!”

“Yeah, Red?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, if you’re as annoying as you were before I might kill you myself. Now shut up and come on. You’re making me cold just looking at you.”

With a small laugh he moved after Benn, leaving the small alley without looking back.

* * *

A couple years had passed. Shanks had never left Garp’s mind. Efforts to find the boy came up empty, efforts to find a body were thankfully empty as well. Garp took his morning coffee to his lips, going over reports of new pirate crews. It seemed there were new ones every damn day, still because of that damn One Piece.

It was when he flipped to the next page that he nearly choked on his coffee. A new bounty for an old face complete with a new crew. The captain wearing a brighter smile than he had ever seen on that face.

‘Red Hair Shanks’ as captain of the ‘Red-Hair Pirates.’ A decent little bunch who had already earned a mark in their records for being ‘incredibly powerful.’ Details though were stranger, facts clearly omitted on the situation that brought these pirates to the Marine’s attention other than their Captain’s former affiliation.

He read to the final sentence on information of the Captain, ‘Also, he seemed almost drunk.’

“Well I’ll be damned, Roger. Looks like the dumbass kid’s gonna be okay.” 

%MCEPASTEBIN%


End file.
